


Batman's Apple Cinnamon Movie Marathon

by oversunlight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Batman - Freeform, Cake, Child Boyd, Cute, Derek Hale - Freeform, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Feels, M/M, Sexual Tension, Teen Wolf, Tyler Hoechlin - Freeform, allison argent - Freeform, dylan obrien - Freeform, idk - Freeform, lydia martin - Freeform, sterek, sterek feels, stiles stilinski - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 22:31:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1486498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oversunlight/pseuds/oversunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, right,” Stiles says, walking over there slowly. “Thought you were gonna wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’ and jump out of a cake and sing, but my DVD’s are—"</p><p>“You want me to jump out of a cake and sing to you?” Derek asks, walking closer to him.</p><p>“Uh…” Stiles’ face turns a deep shade of pink and he looks down at the titles, unable to hold Derek’s stare. He swallows, trying his best to not think about his dream the previous night where Derek did jump out of a cake, dressed only in boxers that became covered in icing when Derek emerged. There was romantic music and a lot of touching and—</p>
            </blockquote>





	Batman's Apple Cinnamon Movie Marathon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anna (She knows who she is)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Anna+%28She+knows+who+she+is%29).



To Derek's slight dismay, the blue jeep pulls up at the exact time Stiles had promised it would. He looks around at the spotless apartment he maintains and can't find anything to make it seem like he's busy and not anticipating Stiles' arrival. He can only stand in his living room and glare at the door with his arms crossed so many times before it's no longer intimidating.

So, Derek wanders off to the bathroom, figuring a quick two minute shower won't hurt him. It also won't give Stiles a reason to make the joke that he smells like a dog.

"I don't smell like a dog," Derek mumbles to himself without realizing. As steam begins to fog the mirror, he shakes his head to try and get rid of the thought that Stiles teasing him is almost enjoyable.  
\---  
"Der-ek," Stiles drawls as he heaves open the giant metal door to the apartment with a bit of a struggle. "Where's my sour wolf?" Stiles tugs hard to pull the door closed, wishing for a moment that he had some werewolf strength so that he wouldn't look so pathetic struggling with it.

Stiles drops his stuff onto the couch and wanders around, peeking into Derek's fridge to see if he keeps actual food in the house. Stiles always imagines Derek hunting down squirrels and eating them for fiber. He's never seen Derek eat anything. Ever.

"Who let you in?" Derek asks, striding out of the bathroom in only jeans and a towel hung around his neck.

"You never lock your door," Stiles points out. Nothing ever changes around the apartment.

Since Derek had moved out of the ruins of his family home, and then to the abandoned subway, he ranked this place as the cleanest and least exciting of them all.

Derek doesn't give him a response, simply grunting and slamming the fridge door shut. He hasn't bought groceries in a while. He never feels comfortable in large crowds. It always feels like someone is staring at him, or someone always knew his mother or his uncle or his sister, or his father.

"Lucky for you I know every pizza place in this town," Stiles says, holding up his phone "and have them on speed dial."

"You still have speed dial?" Derek scoffs, raising a brow and crossing his arms over his chest. He quickly drops them when he realizes he doesn't need to look tough in front of Stiles, Stiles is already genuinely afraid of him. That saddens him.

"Not actual speed dial," Stiles says, oblivious to the condescending tone Derek uses.

Derek rolls his eyes and strides back into his bedroom as Stiles begins to pull countless DVDs and box sets out of his bag.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asks, pausing his motions.

"The DVD player is in the bedroom," Derek says, slowly walking further into the room.

"So... are we doing this?" Stiles asks as he nervously follows Derek. Into Derek's bedroom. Where Derek sleeps. Possibly in the buff.

"Put your stuff on the bed," Derek says, making it sound more like a command then he intendeds.

Stiles places the bag down on the bed, slowly pulling his sweatshirt off over his head and tossing it to the side. His shirt drags up a bit as he does, flashing a bit of his lower stomach at Derek.

"So, which movie first?" Stiles asks and begins rambling off titles.

Some Derek has heard of, some he hasn't. Stiles had forced Derek into an agreement to watch the greatest (by Stiles' standards) movies of the last decade since Derek never seems to understand any reference that Stiles makes.

"What's your favorite?" Derek asks, curiosity peaking in his voice that he quickly changes into an annoyed tone, "and it better not be a werewolf movie."

Stiles rummages through the titles and Derek actually wants to know which is his favorite. Not that he actually cares, he tells himself. It's just that Stiles' eighteen birthday is coming up soon and Scott said that, for all the crap that Derek gives Stiles, he is required to get him a gift. Derek should have guessed that it's Batman. How many Batman shirts does the kid own?

He vaguely knows Batman. It isn't like he hadn't had some sort of childhood before everything happened. Derek and Batman had semi-similar family stories, except that Derek had his sister.

\---

Derek watches movie after movie on his bed next to Stiles. Stiles lounges with his head on Derek's pillow, a piece of pizza in hand and mouth while Derek sits near the foot of the bed.

Derek had moved forward after telling Stiles to stop talking at least a dozen times. He'd even threatened to shove Stiles off the bed if he didn’t shut up.

It's odd to see Derek sitting so still during the movie. No, he didn't have ADHD like Stiles but Derek always seems to have this need to stand with his broad shoulders to seem threatening.

Stiles doesn't feel threatened by him. At least he tries not to be. Derek is intimidating; he's tall, muscular, has a jawline that could cut bone...

Stiles shakes the thought from his head. Sure, Derek's blue eyes are captivating and enticing and remind him of the sky in the middle of summer in the early morning and--

Stiles swallows, bites down on his pizza, and refuses himself the pleasure of watching the TV that's being partly blocked by Derek's body. He's way too focused on Derek's physique that he doesn't make sense of the mumble that passes Derek's lips.

"What?" Stiles asks, sitting upright.

"How many more movies did you bring?" Derek asks, yawning as he leans back on one arm.

"A lot," Stiles says with excitement as his phone lights up with a message from his father wondering when he's coming home. It's one in the morning. “I gotta get going actually. You can hold on to the rest and watch them whenever. Just please, and I will kill you if you do, don’t scratch them up?”

“I won’t,” Derek says, tossing the case on the bed. He watches Stiles scramble out the door and realizes that the sun had gone down hours ago. His television screen had consumed them for hours.

Derek doesn't find any need to stay awake into the wee hours of the morning. He quickly cleans up his room, tossing the pizza into the fridge, and organizes the DVDs, carefully placing them so there's no way he can scratch them and displease Stiles.

Derek even realizes that Stile forgot his sweatshirt in his haste to get home. It's soft and has a small hole in the bottom that looks like Stiles has poked his fingers through many times. It smells of the fabric softener it was last washed it with and a hint of apple cinnamon behind it.

When Derek lays to rest that night his pillow smells richly of the apple cinnamon he'd smelt before. The scent is intoxicating and prevents Derek from falling asleep. He desperately inhales until the aroma vanishes.

\---

Derek’s eyes scan the streets, wondering if anyone will recognize him as soon as he leaves his cover and heads inside. He isn’t doing anything suspicious, sitting on a bench across the road with a coffee in hand and minding his own business.

He rises, moving towards the street and quickly darting across without looking at anyone around him.

Inside, he's lost.

He's never entered this place before. Walls hold pictures with different sayings and a kaleidoscope of colors that he can't make sense of. He moves further in, eyes continuing to dart as he's not the only one in the building.

“Hey,” a boy says, “Can I help you?”  
Derek looks up to see a scrawny boy with a Captain America shirt, shield, and hat on. His name tag reads Boyd. He can't be older than fourteen.  
“No,” Derek says before pushing past the boy and striding to the are where Batman memorabilia is clearly labeled.

Derek looks at the rows and rows of t-shirts, dolls, bags, and a bunch of other useless crap. He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

What am I even doing here? Derek asks himself, I don’t owe the kid anything.

That doesn’t explain why Derek finds himself at the checkout counter with a keychain, video game, poster, money clip, and belt that were all covered with Batman logos. Derek has pulled his hood up so that no one around him could even get a glance of his face and strides out of the store with his bag tucked into his jacket.

\---

“Derek, did you lock the door?” Stiles shouts as he pounds on the large metal door.

He continues banging his fist on it until Derek violently pulls it open. Stiles' fist swings down and is caught by Derek’s hand.

Stiles laughs nervously and pulls his hand back, “What’d you need to see me about?”

Derek’s eyes do a quick glance up and down Stiles’ body. He's wearing a thin black shirt, something Derek has never seen him wear. Black suits him, the fabric clings to body and shows off the straight edges of his sides and the muscles hiding in his torso. He usually wears something over his t-shirts, but now his arms are bare and showing lean muscle that Derek's never noticed. He's also wearing jeans that are sinfully tight and cling to Stiles’ thighs in a pleasing way.

“I—uh—just—um,” Derek stumbles on his words for the first time Stiles has ever seen. Ever. He should make this a national holiday. “It’s your birthday.”

“I had no idea,” Stiles says sarcastically. Derek huffs at him and steps aside, letting Stiles into the apartment. “So…”

“You can have your DVD’s back,” Derek says, gesturing to the kitchen island.

“Oh, right,” Stiles says, walking over there slowly. “Thought you were gonna wish me a ‘Happy Birthday’ and jump out of a cake and sing, but my DVD’s are—"

“You want me to jump out of a cake and sing to you?” Derek asks, walking closer to him.

“Uh…” Stiles’ face turns a deep shade of pink and he looks down at the titles, unable to hold Derek’s stare. He swallows, trying his best to not think about his dream the previous night where Derek did jump out of a cake, dressed only in boxers that became covered in icing when Derek emerged. There was romantic music and a lot of touching and—

“Here,” Derek says, bending down behind the counter. He stands up holding packages wrapped in dull, black wrapping paper. They're all tied together by black ribbon that's tied into a black bow on top. Derek places them on the counter and watches astonishment wash over Stiles’ face.

“You got me a present?” Stiles asks, looking up at Derek. Derek can't help but smile as Stiles looks back down at the gifts, “Presents?”

Derek walks around the counter and stands next to Stiles, “Happy Birthday, Stiles.”

Stiles turns to say something funny but finds his foot set between Derek’s. His face turnes with a coy smile, ready to drop it when he finds the distance between himself and Derek’s heavy breathing chest closer than ever before. Like... ever.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, not moving an inch away.

“I don’t mind,” Derek says, his heart beating harder. He doesn't feel inclined to move away either, more than comfortable with Stiles’ thigh resting against his.

Stiles swallows, frozen where he is.

They both step away from each other at the same time, placing their hands on the counter top to steady themselves. Simultaneously, they bite their lips and stare straight ahead.

“I—“ they both start talking at the same time and stop. Stiles clasps his hands in front of him, his eyebrows pinching together, creasing in between.

Derek speaks first, “Stiles I—"

Stiles cuts him off, reaching over and placing a sloppy kiss on his lips. Derek's shocked at first, Stiles’ nervs radiating from his body to Derek’s. He pulls Stiles closer, pressing himself against the island with a lithe body pushing closer on his front. Hands move around, trying to find the perfect places to be in that moment. Stiles begins to laugh quietly as Derek’s hand lightly trace his ribs. Derek moves down along his jawline and to his neck, nipping the skin gently.

“What’s… so… funny?” Derek asks between kisses. He lets his lips hover while waiting for a response.

“It tickles,” Stiles says, looking down at Derek. Derek pulls back further and gives him a puzzled look that turns into a slight, fond smile. “You have a beautiful smile, Derek.”

“I love the way you say my name,” Derek says, and resumes marking Stiles' neck with lips.

“This is just like my dream except you aren’t covered in cake,” Stiles mumbles, his eyes half closed.

Derek pulls back and looks at him, “If you keep talking this isn’t going to work.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says right away. “I have a really big mouth and I honestly never seem to stop talking, or at least that’s what my father tells me, and my teachers, and my friends, and—"

Derek kisses him long and hard until they're both gasping for air, “I can keep your mouth occupied.”


End file.
